Graphic novels are a window into the author's mind; we get to witness the story unfold before our eyes in a uniquely visceral way. This sensation is what struck me most when reading Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis for the first time, and is what inspired me to delve deeper into graphic novels from and about the Middle East. Literary critic Lev Grossman writes that “some of the most interesting, most daring, most heartbreaking art being created right now is being published in graphic novels. These books take on memory, alienation, film noir, child abuse, life in post-revolutionary Iran and, of course, love” (1).

 

In France and Japan, children are raised on world-renowned comics like The Adventures of Tintin and manga series like Naruto or Dragon Ball. In the United States, graphic novels rose to fame with the creation of Marvel Comics in 1939; since then, the franchise has only continued to expand, morphing into film adaptations as well as sequels of the original comics.

 

While the graphic novel has gone global, one setback is impossible to ignore: like countless other industries, it is dominated by men. This is why Satrapi’s Persepolis has been so groundbreaking; not only has it “helped put the Middle Eastern graphic narrative on the map in the Middle East and in the West” (2), but it has opened the door for other women to insert themselves into the field as well.

 

As it gradually grows in diversity, the graphic novel is becoming more accessible–to both its authors and its readers. It is this accessibility that makes graphic novels such a powerful tool of resistance across the Middle East and its diaspora. Artists, especially women, are using graphic novels as a platform to subvert traditional power structures and bring abstract, political concepts back to the human experience. In doing so, they are inspiring readers of all ages and backgrounds to learn about, and engage with, forms of resistance in the Middle East.

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Empowering Women

The first form of resistance that graphic novels can be attributed to in the Middle East is female empowerment. It is telling that in a traditionally male-dominated industry, the majority of graphic novelists across the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) are women. In 2021, European culture channel Arte released a short documentary called “Crayon Au Poing” (Crayon in Fist) that plunges the viewer into the world of four female cartoonists across the region. While their styles differ and their topics range anywhere from the struggles of everyday life to war, these artists share the common trait of empowering women to read and write about resistance. 

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Egyptian writer Deena Mohamed began writing graphic novels during the Arab Spring, when she was just 16 years old. Her protagonist has always been a veiled, Muslim woman, in hopes of deconstructing Islamophobic and misogynistic stereotypes–especially in the West. She explains: “I wanted to create this character in order to break stereotypes about Muslim women for readers abroad, because one often thinks that these women don’t express themselves or handle their own problems, that they don’t have a voice and that’s their main problem” (3).

 

Similarly, Lebanese artist Lena Merhej chose a female protagonist to highlight the importance of women during the Lebanese revolution. According to her, the revolution gave everyone the courage to speak and shout their beliefs, therefore it is crucial that readers understand the role that women played–and continue to play–in the country’s complex political sphere. Born to a German mother and a Lebanese father, Merhej grew up in Lebanon during the civil war, which ended when she was just 13 years old. She actively read and wrote as a child, and describes feeling the need to draw as a form of self-expression: “I am incredibly enraged. I try to use my drawing to direct that anger, I also try to calm myself so that I can take some distance and understand what’s happening. Drawing helps, and it also helps to make things feel more concrete” (4).

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Lena Merhej in Crayon Au Poing

Moroccan artist Zainab Fasiki takes female empowerment one step further in her graphic novels. A proud feminist, she recognizes that modern-day Morocco is still ingrained in a conservative and patriarchal society where men hold more power than women, and uses her platform to subvert that hierarchy. Her drawings feature women’s bodies of all shapes and sizes, and are largely inspired by childhood trips to the hammam with her mother. Her message, plainly speaking, is that we should “cease to perceive the body as a sexual entity, and instead consider it from an artistic perspective as well, far from all things sexual” (5). One drawing in particular features her own naked body, looming above the twin towers of Casablanca.

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Zainab Fasiki in Crayon Au Poing

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The drawing was inspired by an encounter she had with a man who wanted to assault her, but she ran away before he could make a move. Furious by the time she got home, Fasiki channeled her anger into her artwork: “I drew myself larger than the Twins, as if I could bring safety to this city, as if it was I who would put a stop to all these aggressions. I wanted to show people the heroic side of me that has superpowers” (6). Fasiki considers herself akin to a superhero, simply because she lives independently, and for herself. That, she explains, is the definition of a female superhero (femme superhéroïne). That is also why it has become Fasiki’s signature to draw her own naked body. Nudity, especially juxtaposed with the infrastructure of her city, is a symbol of female empowerment–and one that has yet to be embraced in Morocco.

 

For Marjane Satrapi, who is arguably the pioneer of graphic novels in the MENA, illustrating female empowerment means normalizing the private conversations that occur amongst Iranian women. In Embroideries, when the men of the house leave the room after lunch to go take a nap, their wives are charged with cleaning up. It is during this moment of shared housework that the women are finally given the space to rant freely about whatever is on their hearts: a ventilation du cœur, as Satrapi calls it–or “airing out of the heart.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Broderies, Marjane Satrapi

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It is during this window of time that the women talk about all things taboo–their sexuality, relationships, and the things they despise about their husbands. In her iconic black-and-white style, Satrapi illustrates the walls of society crashing down to reveal what is only human. As the characters of Embroideries share anecdotes and laugh about their explicit details, the reader is encouraged to laugh with them. Satrapi’s graphic novel is funny, down-to-earth, and above all, relatable. By drawing the reader into this private, woman-centric space that might otherwise be overlooked, Satrapi is normalizing the conversations that occur in that space and making them accessible to the reader. In doing so, she is subverting a traditional, gendered hierarchy in an act of literary resistance. She is also making the stories of Iranian women accessible to the Western reader by breaking down the same Islamophobic and misogynistic stereotypes that Mohamed, Merhej and Fasiki are also fighting: The stereotypes that women in the Middle East, particularly Muslim women, are repressed and denied a voice.

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Broderies, Marjane Satrapi

 

Reclaiming Cultural Identity

The second form of resistance that graphic novels can be attributed to is that of reclaiming cultural identity. In their article comparing Satrapi’s Persepolis to other graphic novels from or about the MENA, scholars Chris Reyns-Chikuma and Houssem Ben Lazreg point out a few overarching themes that connect these novels together: “The most obvious points of comparison are the themes. But if the themes contained in the stories are often similar to Persepolis’, it is due to the situations of most of the Middle Eastern countries that have all been torn by wars and political upheavals (revolutions, police repressions, and censorship) in the last 20 years” (p. 760). It is true that many graphic novels from or about the region deal with topics of political oppression and various forms of censorship. Graphic novels, because of their emphasis on visual storytelling, are an excellent–albeit sometimes controversial–form of reclaiming cultural identity. Their vivid images and conversational text bring stories to life in a way that ordinary novels simply are not capable of. At the same time, they engage the reader in a way that movies and television fail to. As readers we are constantly filling in the blanks, personifying the characters beyond their minimalistic drawings and projecting our own emotions onto them.

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Culture cannot be explained; it is something that must be felt. In I Was Their American Dream, NPR writer Malaka Gharib transports us into the clash of cultures that defined her own childhood. Born in California to an Egyptian father and a Filipina mother, Malaka was constantly trying to fit in. To her white, American peers she was labeled as “exotic” or “racially ambiguous;” to her Filipino family and friends she was “too white” or “not Filipina enough;” and to her Egyptian family and friends she was dismissed as “too Americanized” or “not Muslim enough.” Simply put, her cultural identity confused people. In Gharib’s graphic novel, she layers these cultural challenges on top of the universal experience of being a teenager and wanting to fit in. As readers, we can relate to Malaka’s feeling of deep heartbreak when her high school crush doesn't like her back, and we can relate to feeling self-conscious at your cousin’s wedding because you showed up underdressed. Gharib draws her audience in by making her story relatable, endearing, and funny. It doesn’t matter whether you share Malaka’s background and cultural heritage, because she has a way of bringing everything back to the human experience. It doesn’t matter whether your life takes place in a 10 mile radius or spans 3 continents, because the feelings of being torn between your own desires and the wants of others are universal. By bringing everything back to this human experience, she makes the more complex themes in her memoir accessible. Topics including microaggressions, racism, being biracial, being multicultural, being raised in a religious household…it all makes sense from Malaka’s perspective. And that illustrates the power of graphic novels: the medium makes it make sense. 

 

Just as Mohamed, Merhej, Fasiki and Satrapi use graphic novels to challenge gender roles and subvert traditional hierarchies, Gharib uses the same medium to demystify the politics attached to her identity. By bringing her story to life in a way that is relatable to all audiences, Gharib is reclaiming her culture for what it is, breaking down Islamophobic and Orientalist stereotypes in the process.

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Challenging Political Structures

While the graphic novels mentioned up until this point are inherently political, they do not confront specific political regimes directly. Other authors, such as Leila Abdelrazaq and Riad Sattouf, use the medium to explicitly criticize power imbalances in political regimes–especially dictatorships. Because of their visual nature, graphic novels have the capacity to simplify complex political concepts, much like Gharib does in I Was Their American Dream. As scholar and writer Gretchen Schwarz writes in her article “Expanding Literacies Through Graphic Novels,” graphic novels tend to “appeal to diverse students, including reluctant readers, and they offer both great stories and informational topics” (p. 63). In an era of constant visual input from smartphones, tablets, advertisements, and so much more, readers are not accustomed to dealing with pure word texts. The graphic novel, on the other hand, offers a visually appealing approach to absorbing complex information–and also appreciating the artistic quality of storytelling.

 

In her graphic novel Baddawi, Leila Abdelrazaq tells the story of a boy–and of an entire population. She writes in the preface: “The story you are about to read isn’t about only my father. This story is about Handala. (7) "It is about my cousins and aunts and uncles. It is about those displaced multiple times, first from Palestine, then from countries like Kuwait and Syria. It is about five million people, born into a life of exile and persecution, indefinitely suspended in statelessness.” In the form of a memoir, Abdelrazaq tells the story of Ahmad, whose youth is torn between the Palestinian refugee camp of Baddawi and the Lebanese capital of Beirut. It isn’t until Ahmad is rejected from the American University of Beirut, and realizes that will not be granted the privilege of education in Lebanon, that he makes the heart wrenching decision to leave his family behind and move to the United States.

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Baddawi, Leila Abdelrazaq

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By telling the story of Ahmad, Baddawi plunges the reader into a landscape of war and devastation. But most of all, it tackles the infamous Israeli-Palestinian conflict (8)–one that people often refrain from talking about due to its inflammatory nature. It is by humanizing the story of Ahmad that Abdelrazaq manages to create an engaging, accessible narrative that speaks to the reader on an emotional level–not just on an intellectual one. Yet at the same time, she addresses several key terms–such as Nakba and U.N. Resolution #194–that are crucial to understanding the politics behind the conflict, and thus seeing it for what it is: genocide of the Palestinian people.

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Baddawi, Leila Abdelrazaq

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In doing so, she demonstrates that graphic novels have the power to educate–perhaps even more so than ordinary textbooks. In addition to being a moving story about Abdelrazaq’s father, Baddawi is a form of political resistance against Israel and Zionists more broadly.

 

Similarly, in The Arab of the Future, French-Syrian political cartoonist Riad Sattouf depicts images from his childhood and criticizes Assad’s regime with a satirical lens. Raised by a French mother and a Syrian father, Sattouf grew up between Libya and Syria where he experienced authoritarian regimes firsthand. His perspective, while controversial, is incredibly rich in cultural awareness: in the image below, he illustrates the interchangeability of Syrian dictators who take turns imposing the same systems of oppression.

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L’arabe du futur, Riad Sattouf

 

Because the flags are unmistakably Syrian, this cartoon would likely be censored in Syria. In France, on the other hand, Sattouf is a bestselling author whose work has been translated into over 16 languages. The international repercussions of Syrian political satire make it especially powerful: the more content is made accessible worldwide, the more people from various cultural backgrounds can gain awareness of political injustice in Syria and take action to confront it. 

 

This is the case for a number of graphic novels emerging from the Middle Eastern diaspora; they offer a lens into a country’s politics that would likely be censored in the country itself. While options for political confrontation remain limited in authoritarian regimes like Syria’s or Palestine’s, awareness of the oppression that the local population faces is increasing thanks to the widespread publication of graphic novels. Outside of the regimes, where the confines of censorship are erased, they have the power to educate and entertain readers from all over the world. Furthermore, the proliferation of graphic novels outside those repressive regimes has direct consequences on the censorship within them; by recognizing the work of Arab and Middle Eastern artists abroad, audiences can help empower people in their resistance against an oppressive regime. While graphic novels might not have the power to fully restructure power imbalances in the country, they provide a safe outlet for authors and readers to educate themselves and question authority. They allow artists to speak freely on systems of oppression that might otherwise be kept silent.

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Conclusion

Graphic novels, thanks to their accessible and engaging nature, are an incredibly effective form of social and political resistance. They have been used to subvert traditional gender roles, normalize sexuality in cultures where it would otherwise be considered taboo, reclaim cultural identity by breaking down stereotypes, and criticize political regimes through narrative and satirical storytelling. I believe that by bringing complex political ideas back to a basic, human level, graphic novels have the power to inspire readers and instigate change. People engage in political resistance when they are informed and feel that the issue at hand is somehow relevant to them; by writing stories that resonate with people on an emotional level, I believe that artists can reveal the invisible threads that tie us together across cultural, linguistic, and ideological barriers, thus making people feel more connected to one another. Storytelling is where it all begins.

 

Notes

(1) Schwarz, “Expanding Literacies through Graphic Novels" (58)

(2) Reyns-Chikuma and Ben Lazreg, “Marjane Satrapi and the Graphic Novels from and about the Middle East" (760).

(3)  Arte, “Crayon au poing," 19:45. Translated from French.

(4) ibid; 05:00. Translated from French.

(5) ibid; 15:00. Translated from French.

(6) ibid; 16:00. Translated from French.

(7) Handala is a 10-year-old, fictional character with “spiky hair, bare feet, and tattered clothes” who never got to show his face because the artist who created him–acclaimed Palestinian political cartoonist Naji al-Ali–was assassinated in 1987 before she could ever complete her vision. Al-Ali promised that “once the Palestinian people were free and allowed to return home, Handala would grow up and the world would see his face.”

(8) I use the term “Israeli-Palestinian conflict” not because I believe it accurately represents the reality of the situation but because it is considered the official terminology from a Western perspective. I want to insist on the fact that Abdelrazaq’s work is accessible to everyone regardless of political orientation; I believe that Zionists and people who are pro-Israel may change their beliefs after reading this graphic novel because it humanizes those involved.

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Bibliography

 

Abdelrazaq, Leila. 2015. Baddawi.

 

Arte. 2021. Crayon Au Poing. Video. https://www.arte.tv/fr/videos/100747-000-A/crayon-au-poing-4-dessinatrices-du-monde-arabe/.

 

Gharib, Malaka. 2019. I Was Their American Dream. Potter/Ten Speed/Harmony/Rodale.

 

Reyns-Chikuma, Chris and Ben Lazreg, Houssem. 2017. “Marjane Satrapi and the Graphic Novels from and about the Middle East.” Arab Studies Quarterly 39 (1), pp. 758–75, https://doi.org/10.13169/arabstudquar.39.1.0758

 

Satrapi, Marjane. 2008. Embroideries. London: Jonathan Cape.

 

Satrapi, Marjane. 2000. Persepolis.

 

Sattouf, Riad. 2014. The Arab Of The Future.

 

Sayfo, Omar. 2021. “The Arab Spring of Animation.” Arab Animation: Images of Identity, Edinburgh University Press, pp. 217–46. http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.3366/j.ctv1vtz82f.10.

Schwarz, Gretchen. 2006. "Expanding Literacies Through Graphic Novels". English Journal 95 (6). doi:10.2307/30046629.